'The latest wedding trend is a "singles list." Aka a laminated reminder you're alone.'

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A bride in the US has gone viral for something called a "singles sheet."

Picture it: you're at a wedding, ready to smash some champagne, demolish a canapé tower, maybe do the 'YMCA' with a level of seriousness normally reserved for hostage negotiations — when someone hands you a piece of paper featuring your face alongside every other unattached guest in the room.

A laminated menu of everyone's current romantic failures, if you will. Tinder, in PDF form.

That's what 27-year-old Jessica Branda did at her recent wedding — a light-hearted Canva masterpiece listing all the single guests, complete with headshots, circulated like a wine list. She says it was meant to be fun. She swears everyone was okay with it. Some guests laughed.

The internet… did not.

@jessicabrandaa

It was a hit 🤣 highly recommend adding this to your reception and getting everyone’s reactions! #creatorsearchinsights #bride #weddingtrend #weddingday #weddingdiy

♬ This Will Be (An Everlasting Love) - Natalie Cole

TikTok ate it up; her video racked up over a million views and thousands of comments. Some declared it genius. Others labelled it humiliating. One person said they'd "take back my gift." Another said it was "public shaming disguised as cute."

Because here's the thing: being single at a wedding is already a full-body workout in dodging bouquet tosses, awkward small talk, and "when's your turn?" interrogations. We don't need our faces printed and passed around like an unofficial menu, too.

Weddings have a long and storied history of making single people feel like some sort of endangered species. The bouquet toss is a classic — a gladiator-style Hunger Games moment where single women are herded onto the dance floor and encouraged to fight for their lives (or at least for a bunch of wilted peonies). The DJ plays 'Single Ladies' — because, of course they do — and if you don't participate you get the pity clap. 

Watch: How much should you gift at a wedding? Post continues below.

Then there's the singles table — a matchmaking petri dish where you, the bride's cousin's weird housemate Dylan, someone's work friend who "is really into competitive birdwatching, isn't that fun?", and a man named Craig who has strong opinions about cryptocurrency are forced to make polite conversation while all the couples slow dance.

Spoiler: you will not meet your soulmate here.

You will meet a man who owns three snakes and refers to them as his "kids." Dylan will sneak hits of his vape all night. Craig will attempt to "pick your brain" about starting a podcast and you will be trapped until dessert.

And let's not forget the "no plus ones" policy. Nothing says "we value your friendship" like making you spend eight hours third-wheeling an entire guest list.

The truth is, most single people aren't turning up to weddings hoping to meet someone — no matter how many Hollywood movies insist I'm just one conga line away from true love.

We're there to celebrate your love. To drink your open bar dry. To cry during the vows and then get banned from the photobooth for inappropriate use of props. We already know where we stand in the relationship department — somewhere between "deeply independent and thriving" and "just redownloaded Hinge for the sixth time" — and we don't need the seating chart to remind us. We're very aware of how far on the opposite end of the love spectrum we currently are from you, the loved-up bride and groom.

All single people want to do at your wedding is hog the photobooth. Image: Getty.

And I say all of this as someone who's been on the other side.

Surprise twist: I have planned a wedding. I have been peak unsingle — literally the human embodiment of 'smug couple energy' — because, yes, the bride was me. I was that person who thought very hard about the seating plan, the playlists, the linen napkin colour — but I did not, even in my most deranged spreadsheet moments, think to make a bingo card of all the single guests' faces.

Now, I find myself single again. And attending weddings, with the knowledge that at any moment, my face could end up laminated and stapled to a board titled "Eligible and Available."

I get that the singles sheet was meant to be lighthearted. Weddings are expensive, emotional and meticulously curated — you want your guests to mingle, to connect, to leave thinking "wow, that was so much fun." And yes, meeting someone at a wedding can happen.

But matchmaking only works when everyone's in on it. Consent matters. So does tone. A discreet introduction? Fine. Casually telling your mate, "Oh, you two both own three plants and they're all dying"? Also fine. Announcing over the mic, "If anyone's desperate and mildly fertile, please form a line by the wishing well"? That's… less fine.

Being single at a wedding is already its own kind of sport. There are enough hurdles to dodge without adding "my face in the guest-distributed Lonely Loser newsletter" to the list. 

So please, for the love of cake and champagne, leave our relationship status out of the wedding stationery. If I want to be publicly humiliated, I can always log back into Hinge.

Feature image: Supplied/TikTok.